The Thornthwaite Inheritance

by Gareth P. Jones

  Unfortunately, young Royston Thornthwaite inherited none of his father’s generous spirit, so the villagers continued to pay rent for their homes and land as they still did today.

  ‘Hello Lorelli,’ said a voice.

  Lorelli looked up from her book to find Adam Farthing standing in front of her, wearing a blue bicycle helmet, and gripping the handlebars of Ovid’s bicycle. He dismounted and flung the bike to the ground.

  ‘You should be more careful with other people’s property,’ said Lorelli.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ replied Adam. He picked up the bike and leant it against the tree.

  ‘Does Ovid know you’re riding his bike?’

  ‘Do you think he’ll mind?’

  ‘Definitely. Where are you going with it?’

  ‘I thought I’d try again to visit the village but I didn’t fancy giving the horses another go.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘It’s quite a good bike,’ said Adam. ‘I mean, it looks like a piece of junk but it rides really well and the suspension is fantastic.’

  ‘Ovid takes good care of it. I don’t think he’ll be happy when he finds out you’re riding it. You’d better not keep it out for too long. Have a nice time at the village,’ said Lorelli dismissively.

  ‘What are you reading?’ enquired Adam.

  ‘Just a book,’ said Lorelli, trying to hide it.

  ‘Can I see?’

  Reluctantly Lorelli showed it to him, knowing that not to do so would only make him more curious.

  ‘Imelda Gaunt?’ said Adam. ‘I know her.’

  ‘You know her?’ said Lorelli, stunned.

  ‘She’s one of my dad’s clients. I’ve met her loads of times. I could introduce you some time, get your book signed.’

  ‘That would be amazing. What’s she like?’

  ‘I’ll tell you if you come to the village with me.’

  Lorelli paused before replying. She had taken the incident with the bees as a sign that her instincts were right, that she should avoid Little Fledgling, but sitting under the old oak, with Adam Farthing standing in the dappled sunlight smiling at her, looking so carefree and relaxed, she changed her mind.

  ‘All right, then. I will come.’ She stood up, closed her book and placed it in her bag. She wheeled the bicycle out into the sunlight, then turned around to see Adam bending down, picking something up. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I think you’ve dropped some money,’ replied Adam.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Lorelli, who rarely had any need to carry money.

  ‘Well, there’s a pound coin down here,’ he said, bending down to pick it up.

  As he did so, there was a popping sound above him, followed by a creak. Lorelli looked up but before she could call out one of the tree’s thick branches snapped and came crashing down on Adam’s head. Adam Farthing crumpled to the ground.

  .

  A BOOBY-TRAPPED TREE

  ‘Adam, Adam, are you OK?’ Lorelli scrabbled to pull the branch off him. She heaved and pushed it to one side. Adam was lying still, with his eyes closed. ‘Adam, say something,’ she said, putting her ear to his chest to listen for a heartbeat.

  She felt him move and saw him open his eyes.

  ‘My neck really hurts,’ he said.

  Lorelli fought hard not to show the immense relief she felt. ‘Are you able to sit up?’

  Adam raised himself up on his elbows.

  ‘It’s lucky you were wearing that helmet,’ she said.

  Adam felt the dent in his bicycle helmet. ‘I guess this old tree is a bit rotten.’

  Lorelli examined where the branch had fallen from the tree. ‘This oak is old, but it’s still healthy,’ she said. ‘And look, it’s a clean break.’

  Adam got to his feet and saw that where the branch had fallen from the tree, there were no messy splinters as one might expect from a rotten branch. There was a perfect circle as though the branch had been sawn off. ‘I wonder why it fell at that precise moment,’ he said.

  ‘Where did you find that coin?’ asked Lorelli.

  Still rubbing his neck, Adam helped Lorelli push the fallen branch to one side and they searched the ground for the spot where he had found the coin. With the branch gone there was less shade and Lorelli noticed something glint in the sunlight. She fell to her knees and wiped away the dirt.

  ‘Is it more money?’ asked Adam.

  ‘No, but it is metal. Look.’

  She dug into the dirt with her fingernails until she found a wire connected to the metal object. Yanking it, she found that it had been buried under a thin layer of dirt. She followed it to the tree and saw that it ran up the far side of the bark to where the branch had snapped. The wood was blackened around where the wire stopped, which was at the point where the branch had broken.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Adam.

  ‘The coin you found was on top of this bit of metal,’ said Lorelli. ‘It connected the circuit. By picking up the coin you broke the circuit and triggered a small explosion. That was the popping sound we heard. As the branch had already been half sawn off, that was all it took for it to fall.’

  ‘Wow.’ Adam took off his bicycle helmet and scratched his head. ‘But why would anyone do all that?’

  ‘Don’t you see? First the bees, now this. Someone’s trying to kill you . . . or at least scare you away.’

  ‘Me? Who would want to do such a thing to me?’

  Lorelli sighed at Adam’s innocence, but she didn’t tell him what she was thinking. She knew exactly who would want to harm him and who would have the skill and deviousness to concoct such a plan: her twin brother, Ovid Thornthwaite.

  .

  THE END OF THE TRUCE

  ‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell my father about the wire,’ said Adam as he and Lorelli walked back towards the manor.

  ‘You’ll have to see Nurse Griddle about your neck. What will you say happened?’ Lorelli wheeled the bike alongside Adam.

  ‘I’ll tell her the truth, that a rotten branch fell and hit me.’

  ‘But that’s not the truth.’

  ‘No,’ Adam said forcefully. ‘Look, Dad can be a little over-protective at times. If he thinks I’m in danger he’ll send me away.’

  ‘Maybe that would be for the best.’

  Adam stopped and looked at her. ‘But I really like it here. I like the manor and the grounds . . . and you. I think I’d rather be here than anywhere else.’

  ‘Even Saint Swivels?’

  ‘Oh, the school is great during term time but there’s no one around during the holidays and our house is in the middle of nowhere. I’d much rather stay here. Besides, we haven’t even managed to make it to the village yet.’

  ‘You should go and rest your neck. I’ll send Nurse Griddle over.’

  They had reached the driveway leading to the manor.

  ‘All right, but will you promise not to tell Dad what happened?’ said Adam.

  ‘I promise.’ Lorelli handed the bike to him. ‘You should put this back where you found it.’

  Inside Thornthwaite Manor, Lorelli found Nurse Griddle and told her about Adam’s injured neck, then asked where her brother was. Nurse Griddle said she hadn’t seen him all morning.

  It took a while to track Ovid down. He wasn’t in the music room or the hothouse or in any of his usual hideouts. Eventually it was Mrs Bagshaw who said she had seen him heading towards the barn. As she approached it, Lorelli could hear a rhythmic sound of sawing wood.

  She entered and found Ovid standing with his sleeves rolled up, holding a long saw in one hand and a piece of wood in the other. Lorelli thought about the clean cut through the oak branch. Ovid seemed utterly absorbed in the activity and it was only after the piece of wo
od ker-clunked to the ground, that he looked up and noticed his sister.

  ‘Hello Lorelli,’ he said.

  ‘Guess what?’ she replied.

  ‘I may need more of a clue than that.’

  ‘Really? I would have thought that would have been enough.’

  ‘No, I’ll need a little more.’ He picked up the fallen piece of wood and examined it.

  ‘There was another attempt on Adam’s life this morning. And I believe you were behind it.’

  Ovid smiled. ‘My dear sister,’ he said, his bottle-green eyes meeting hers, ‘as far as I am concerned, you are, and have always been, the only person important enough to me to warrant an attempt on your life.’

  ‘I’m touched.’

  ‘But you suspect me of branching out, do you?’ said Ovid. ‘Well, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  ‘You think you’re so clever, but I’m on to you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told Hazel to put nuts in the bread mix too.’

  ‘Your lack of trust is like a splinter in my heart.’

  ‘If it wasn’t you how could you possibly know what happened this morning to make those awful puns?’

  ‘Oh, come on, nothing stays secret very long around here. Hit by a falling branch.’ He chuckled. ‘Even the trees don’t like him.’

  ‘You know perfectly well that it wasn’t an accident,’ insisted Lorelli.

  ‘He wouldn’t still be walking around with a sore neck if I was behind it.’ threatened Ovid.

  ‘I found the wire, Ovid.’

  ‘The wire?’ Ovid placed the piece of wood down and walked around to stand face to face with his sister. ‘You think that if I made an attempt on Adam’s life you would find a wire?’

  ‘Well, you had better look out for wires from now on.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means the truce is off,’ said Lorelli, with steely determination in her voice.

  ‘Lorelli, think about what you’re saying. Once the new will is drawn up, neither of us will benefit from the other’s death.’

  ‘The will hasn’t been drawn up yet.’

  ‘Lorelli, don’t be foolish. I overheard Farthing and his son talking. Adam’s plan is to marry you when you’re old enough so he can get his hands on our inheritance.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. I don’t believe you.’ Lorelli felt blood rush to her pale cheeks.

  ‘Believe what you want. It’s true.’

  ‘I’m not going to marry anyone. I’m only thirteen.’

  ‘But in a few years you will be old enough. I heard him say it. That’s the only reason he’s being nice to you.’

  ‘You’re just trying to turn me against him!’ shouted Lorelli. ‘You’re the deceitful one. You’re behind these attacks.’

  ‘Please, Lorelli, I swear I may have found Adam’s accidents funny but I wasn’t behind any of them. You have to believe me.’

  ‘I should never have believed you. The alliance and the truce are both over.’

  ‘But what about the will?’ pleaded Ovid.

  ‘That just gives us a time limit to finish the job, doesn’t it?’ With which Lorelli spun around, sending a cloud of sawdust behind her as she stormed out of the barn.

  Stepping into the sunlight she walked straight into Mr Farthing.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, dropping a file of papers on to the ground. ‘I was passing when I heard raised voices. Is everything all right, Lorelli?’

  Lorelli gathered herself and took a deep breath. She bent down to help Mr Farthing pick up his papers. ‘Everything is fine, thank you,’ she said. ‘In fact everything is completely back to normal.’

  Act Two

  .

  A DIFFERENT KIND OF GAME

  The day after the argument in the barn Lorelli and Ovid sat down to continue their chess game. With barely a moment’s thought Lorelli moved a knight within striking distance of Ovid’s queen. Ovid raised his eyebrows and, after careful consideration, moved his queen out of danger. Lorelli instantly responded by placing it under attack again, this time from her rook. Ovid made another defensive move and Lorelli threatened the queen with a pawn.

  ‘You’re acting a little rashly,’ said Ovid, considering his next move. ‘You’ve left your bishop vulnerable.’

  ‘You worry about your pieces, I’ll worry about mine,’ replied Lorelli.

  ‘Fair enough.’ Ovid took Lorelli’s bishop with his rook and handed the piece to her. Lorelli placed the cold metal chess-piece next to the board.

  If Lorelli was being honest with herself she would have known that the result of the game was now a foregone conclusion. It would take some time but, short of a colossal mistake by Ovid, she had lost the game. Looking at her, Ovid couldn’t tell whether she had realised this or not.

  The silence that hung between them was broken by Adam Farthing entering the room, sporting a pair of dazzling white tennis shorts and holding two wooden tennis rackets.

  ‘Morning Ovid,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Hello Lorelli, are you ready for our match?’ He waved the rackets in the air.

  ‘What match?’ said Ovid.

  ‘Tennis, of course.’ Adam grinned.

  ‘Tennis?’ Ovid sounded as revolted as if Adam had suggested that they spend the morning throwing cowpats at each other.

  ‘Yes, I have a world-class coach at Saint Swivels. He used to rank eighteenth in the world. These rackets are a bit old-fashioned but I think they’ll still work.’

  Lorelli took one of the rackets from Adam. ‘This was Mother’s,’ she said, turning it over in her hand. ‘Our parents used to play together.’

  ‘How would you know?’ said Ovid incredulously. ‘You don’t remember them any more than I do.’

  ‘You don’t know what I remember,’ replied Lorelli. ‘Besides, Tom told me they used to play together when they first got married.’

  ‘And now you and Adam are going to play with their rackets,’ said Ovid. ‘How romantic.’

  ‘Come on, Adam,’ said Lorelli. ‘Let’s go. Ovid only hates tennis because he can’t beat me at it.’

  ‘Unlike chess,’ said Ovid under his breath.

  ‘See you later, Ovid,’ said Adam cheerfully.

  They left the room and Ovid remained at the chessboard, working out what moves would most quickly put his sister out of her misery and end the game.

  ‘Good morning young master,’ said Mr Crutcher, entering, carrying a tray. ‘Will you not be joining the others on the tennis court?’

  ‘No, I can’t bear the stupid game.’

  Mr Crutcher smiled. ‘Of course not. You take after Lord Thornthwaite in that way.’

  ‘Lorelli said he used to play with Mother.’

  Mr Crutcher set about clearing the empty teacups from the table. ‘Your father tolerated the game for your mother’s sake.’

  ‘Alfred,’ said Ovid.

  ‘Yes, young master?’

  ‘Do you really think Mother killed Father for the money?’

  Mr Crutcher paused in what he was doing. ‘I’m afraid I do, young master. Greed can make people do terrible things.’

  .

  A LOOSE WHEEL

  The previous summer the twins had played a few games of tennis together but it soon became apparent that Lorelli was naturally more talented at the sport than her brother. Ovid didn’t like losing. The first tennis match he lost was the last he ever played.

  In fact, the only outdoor pursuit that Ovid really enjoyed was cycling. A few years ago he had come across an old mountain bike, rusty and falling apart. Its seat was threadbare and jammed with rust. Both pedals had snapped off, several spokes were missing from the wheels and the tyres were flat.

  Ovid had delved into books in the library
on bicycle maintenance, welding, DIY and anything else that could help him restore the bike. He became so utterly engrossed that he didn’t try to kill his sister for several weeks, although a deadly viper in his bed suggested that Lorelli hadn’t given up her murderous ambitions.

  Tom Paine gave him something to sort out the rust and Mr Crutcher ordered the parts required to fix it, but apart from that Ovid repaired the bike entirely on his own. Eventually, with new pedals, a fresh paintjob, working wheels and pumped-up tyres, his bike was ready. The next challenge he faced was learning how to ride it.

  Most children have parents to help them learn to ride a bicycle. Many start with tricycles or stabilisers to build up their confidence. Not Ovid. In spite of an offer from Tom to teach him, Ovid took the bicycle around the back of the manor and set about learning how to ride on his own. He fell a number of times. Nurse Griddle got used to tending to his grazed hands and knees but eventually, through sheer determination, he succeeded in teaching himself.

  He loved to take his bike out for long rides. Sometimes he even got as far as Beryl’s Bridge but he always stopped short of the village.

  Today, he didn’t want to head south, past the tennis courts, so he turned his bike north up Orwell Hill, where he could amuse himself freewheeling down the slopes.

  There was something strange about the feel of the bike today. Ovid wondered whether someone else had ridden it and, riding over the crunching gravel, past the old barn up into Huxley Woods, he noticed that a sweet smell seemed to be following him.

  He grew breathless as the gradient grew steeper. Once he had gained enough height he turned around and glided down the hill, through the woods. He gained speed as he dodged trees. As usual, he enjoyed the danger but when he felt himself going too fast he eased on the brakes. He expected the brakes to squeal as the bike slowed but there was no noise. He squeezed harder but still nothing happened. The bike was picking up speed, the handlebars vibrating violently against his palms. He turned to the left, trying to head back up the slope to slow the bike down but doing so, he felt a sharp, sudden jolt. The front wheel came loose and rolled away, tipping the bike and flipping him over the handlebars. The rest of the bike went flying over his head and he crashed head first into the middle of a thorny bush.